Pink Lady Can Fly !

Just when you think you've seen it all, in terms of tacky pink products, I was shocked to see this horrendous little number on the Facebook "targeted" advertisements section of my profile page.

Some of you might recall my entry last year introducing you to Pink Lady.

Anyway it seems as though Pink Lady has now grown wings, and won first place for her glittery garish costume at the Bizarro World Mardi Gras Parade. I wish she would take some of that magic glitter, sprinkle it on her wings and fly the hell out of my face, or at least off of my Facebook page.

Apparently the Facebook genius advert bots, think, that because I became a fan of the Breast Cancer Action Facebook page, I am now interested in all things Breast Cancer, including this awful selection of exploitative pink products. This seems especially ironic, since the Breast Cancer Action group, is the architect and facilitator of the excellent "Think Before You Pink" campaign designed to rid us of these very assaults on the average consumer.

So my point in all of this is, that if anyone thinks that I might like to receive one of these products to help me in my fight against breast cancer, please think again. Quite frankly, I would rather be poked with sharp needles, ingest a serious amount of deadly chemicals, and give my left tit, than have someones hard earned money go to furthering the profits of these corporate buffoons.

The Situation

Is it really January 2010, and I've gone another month without bothering to post ? Where does the time go ? Certainly not on anything remotely productive I can tell you.

So I'm starting to get a little bored with my situation (not "The Situation" aka Jersey Shore Mike, whom I'm certainly not bored with and whom I might have a little crush on but can't decide between him or Pauly D.....but I digress....). My life seems a little dull right now. How do I know this, you rightly ask. It could be the middle of the Northeast winter which is depressing on any day. It could be not having a paying job. Or it might just be me being over the whole cancer thing. In any event, when the most exciting thing that happens to you is an infected hemorrhoid, and you start looking forward to going to the doctor for a full rectal examination and work-up, because it eats up at least a good two hours in an otherwise dull day and slow news week, you know you need to get a life.

I am going to make a promise to you, my faithful reader(s), that I will ramp this blog up and start making it something worthy of a million-dollar book deal and an appearance on the Oprah Show. Or the Gayle King Show. Or the Sarah Palin Show. Whomever comes knocking first.

But let's get down to business. Now we've covered the unspeakable assault on my nether regions of last week (which I'm pleased to say has been defeated by a nuclear arsenal of antibiotics and a myriad of snake-charmer-like ointments), I want to talk about something far more serious. Cancer patient profiling. Yes people, it's out there and we need to do something about it. Now. Before someone gets really pissed off.

So I was sitting in my oncologist's office last week, because the invasion of the nether regions by some infectious agent caused the cancer doctors to get nervous, and of course then required me to give a keg-load of my blood to make sure that my white blood cell counts were in fighting enough shape to kick this thing in the arse (horrible double entendre I know, but had to be done I'm afraid folks). Now this was a good thing from the point of view that it ate up invaluable minutes in an otherwise unproductive day, but a bad thing from the point of view that sitting in the cancer doctor's office with a thing growing out of your arse, an IV lead hanging out of the doorbell embedded in your chest, and a generally bad attitude to boot, is not many people's idea of a good time. But it does perhaps make you a little more sensitive to the everyday transgressions in "cancer etiquette".

Anyway, at my Doctor's office there is a horribly complicated waiting-room system; one for the mere mortals accompanying the poor cancer victims and another smaller waiting room for the poor cancer victims. You advance to the smaller waiting room to await your audience with your appointed medical genius, but only after you have been stuck with needles, promised your first-born child, weighed (just to remind yourself that you have cancer AND are 10-lbs overweight), and parted with most of your body's blood production for that day. Cancer victims go to the small waiting room and accompanying mere mortals must wait in the large waiting room. Got it ?

So I'm sitting there well into hour two of my fifteen minute visit, catching up on my Octomom and Kate Gosselin hair extension news, when I am rudely interrupted by Nurse Ratchet from the other side of the room. If memory serves me, the conversation went something like this.

Nurse Ratchet: "Oi You"

Cancer Victims: All look up perplexed.

Nurse Ratchet: "I said you".

Cancer Victim #1: "Who me ?"

Nurse Ratchet: "No you"

Cancer Victim #2 (aka Me): "Me" , pointing to myself.

Nurse Ratchet: In a very bitchy voice. "Yes you ! Who are you here to see ?"

Cancer Victim #2 (aka Me): "Dr Genius".

Nurse Ratchet: In a very bitchy voice. "Well get out of here and go and wait in the big waiting room. NOW !!!!"

Cancer Victim #2 proceeds meekly out of small waiting room, mutters defiantly "Whatever" and goes to large waiting room, continues muttering under her breath, and thinks better of killing Nurse Ratchet after spying fully uniformed and armed cop sitting across from her. Waits another hour and then is called back into small waiting room and is beckoned into Nurse Ratchet's office.

Nurse Ratchet. In sickly sweet voice: "Hi honey, how are you feeling today ? You look a little agitated. Why didn't you tell me you had a port. I wouldn't have kicked you out. You just don't look like a cancer patient. You seem too young and attractive".

ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME ?????? I just got cancer patient profiled. I feel violated. Next time I come to see Nurse Ratchet, I'll be sure to put on my most down-trodden look, dress myself in head-to-toe in garish pink-ribbon-laden Survivor gear, lose 55 lbs and throw up in her lap just for good measure. Maybe then she'll let me sit in the small waiting room.

Moral of this story, people ? First, use Charmin toilet roll, and nothing else. Secondly, next time you think you want to be rude to someone, take a second and just smile because you never know what kind of a day that person just had, cancer sucks and you don't need to make it worse. Third. Pauly D.

Up Yours Stupid Statistics !

I'm taking a few days off from the Cancer Culture. There's so much noise in the media right now, what with all the squabbling going on about mammography and whether it's worthwhile in women under-50, how much it costs over a woman's lifetime, whether saving 1 life in 1900 is really worth it, how mammography might actually cause breast cancer in high-risk younger women, blah, blah, blah.

It's all a bit overwhelming for this particular woman who is under 40 years old, has a serious case of breast cancer, and falls outside every breast cancer statistic the research geniuses have ever put out there. So I'm escaping for a couple of days to just go and enjoy myself, turn down the volume and remember why my life is worth saving no matter the cost or what the stupid statistics say.

The Screening Debate

There's been a lot of coverage in the news this past week about recently issued guidelines, by various organizational bodies, pertaining to recommended screenings for women for both breast and cervical cancer. On the breast cancer front, mammogram, as a routine test, is only officially being recommended for women over 50, and for cervical cancer, Pap tests are only being recommended for women over 21 and only once every two years.

After having the "early detection saves lives" messages rammed down our throats for the last 20-odd years, predictably there's now much consternation and brouhaha over these changes. Many of my friends have been asking what I think about this latest set of developments in the the World of Cancer.

So here's my two-cents for what it's worth.

If you've been doing your reading on the subject of breast cancer screening, you would know that these recommendations aren't new. In fact, the debate on this issue goes back at least as far back as the early 1970's. (See recent New York Times article, New York Times Op-Ed column, and Breast Cancer Action press release). The boffins have long known, that STATISTICALLY speaking, early detection and so-called breast cancer awareness, doesn't actually significantly alter mortality rates or outcomes at least as far as breast cancer is concerned.

All it's really meant for many of the breast cancer-stricken population is that they are simply in treatment for longer which may or may not be helpful. The reality is that for many women, breast cancer is still an aggressive disease for which there is still no cure. The thinking has been that the earlier your cancer is detected, the better the chance that you get to live a little longer, and of course the drug companies still get their annuity. On the flip-side, because of the over-success of the "early awareness" campaigns by the Pink Ribbon brigade, some detected cancers are being unnecessarily treated and/or operated on when in reality so they are so low-grade and slow-growing that they would have been better just left alone.

Statistically-speaking, the number of deaths prevented in screening women under-50 comes out to something like 1 in 1900 (a statistic apparently deemed uneconomic and insignificant by the boffins). Well I guess that's reasonable so long as you're not the 1 woman out of 190o, right ?

So this is all well and good, and I don't necessarily disagree with the new recommendations, but the bottom line is this. Both the old and new guidelines failed me, and will continue to fail those women who fall outside the statistical norms. Let's not get caught up in statistics when it comes to our own bodies. Let's have policies and a health system that encourages us to be our own advocates. Let people make up their own minds, in consultation with the medical professionals, as to whether they want the stress and other risk factors associated with cancer screenings.

If you think something is wrong, find your voice. Be heard. You might just save your own life.

Big Faker

It's funny how the old saying of life imitating art, more often than not, proves to be true.

Last night I was watching a rerun episode of Seinfeld: The Scofflaw. It was the one about George and Jerry's friend who admits to George that he faked having cancer, all the whilst taking advantage of Jerry's kindness, including buying a toupee with a gift card given by Jerry.

Turns out that recently there was a woman in Texas who did pretty much the same thing. She told everybody she had breast cancer, shaved her head to imitate chemotherapy effects, raised money for her "care", and then spent said money on a pair of fake boobs. (Read the full story as reported by MSNBC late last week).

Of course after watching the Jerry episode, and then hearing about the Texas story, I knew there had to be a sassy blog entry in there somewhere, so here goes.

First of all, I can't imagine the efforts that this women went to fake having breast cancer. Would it really be that much fun and worth it just to have a couple of hard-feeling, saline filled sacks inserted into your body ? I mean really, let's think about this. She had to keep her head shaved, wear makeup to imitate pasty yellow chemo-skin, always make sure she looked her worst, bring on the teary waterworks on cue, spend an inordinate amount of time lying on the couch watching a lot of crap daytime TV, have lots of dreary deep and meaningful conversations about her feelings, eat copious amounts of bland and tasteless food and then throw it all up to fake chemo nausea, write a bestselling book on "Why I Wore Spanx to Chemotherapy" or something similar, spend hours in doctor's offices reading about the scintillating adventures of Speidi in People magazine, and worst of all drape herself in garish pink survivor gear and bop out to "We Are Family"or "I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar" at any opportunity to rally the support of her community. Phew !

Nope ! It doesn't sound like something I would want to do. In fact I want to do just the opposite. Folks, I am going to fake NOT having breast cancer. Just think about what I'll have to do to pull it off. Spend my evenings draped in designer gear partying my ass off and all after 9pm, constantly laughing and smiling and lighting up rooms with my brilliant and interesting presence, field compliments on how beautiful I look and what am I using on my skin to look so youthful and healthy, never wear pink, excel at my high-paying professional career, go to the doctor once a year (and only to refill my Pill prescription), have so little time because of my busy and vibrant life that I am barely able to find time to blog about NOT having cancer, harvest my crops on Farmville, or update my status on Facebook, and best of all, enjoy and revere my REAL size 32A boobs !

Facebook, Farmville & Fighting Cancer

I attended a networking session last week where it was suggested to me that I might like to try Guided Imagery to help combat the stresses of dealing with my stupid cancer. My immediate thought was, why the hell would I need to when I have Facebook ?

I discovered Facebook about a year ago and I can tell you I have drunk a kegful of the Kool Aid. I LOVE it ! I get to be the "me" I was before all the cancer crap came into my life.

In my Facebook world there is no cancer. Just me and my virtual pinup board which charts, in pictures, the most wonderful moments of my life and is a rich history of friendships formed over many years from childhood, the schoolyard, university, work life, travelling abroad, marriage to present day. Life's magical journey, fully documented, and relevant to somebody, somewhere in the rest of the world.

I get to be witty, fun, mysterious, flirty, seventeen, twenty one, thirty five, world traveller, arbiter of popular culture, gossipy, icon of coolness, 80's music aficionado, literary genius, reporter of current events, tastemaker and above all a picture of health in the minds eye of my Facebook family. Well, at least that's how I like to use it.

I am surrounded by my loved ones 24-7, in all manner of far flung corners of the world and there is always someone to talk to, laugh at, gossip about, learn from, read about, catch up with, no matter the time of day or night.

Updating my Facebook status, although annoying and mundane to some, is a real opportunity for me everyday to find joy in the days events and shout gloriously to the rest of the world that my day wasn't wasted. With Facebook, I never feel alone. Ok, that's a multimillion dollar ad campaign right there. Excuse me whilst I go and call my agent to discuss terms.....

Whilst you're all still here for the ride, let me tell you about another joy of Facebook which I only just discovered. Farmville ! Yes folks, that's right, Farmville ! Why would I need to go into a darkened room with an aging hippy, listen to monotonous ohm chanting, to take myself on a mystical journey to find my inner fourth chakra that will apparently fight my cancer cells if I just focus, when I could just log on to Facebook and go play Farmville ?

What a wondrous and devilishly delightful guilty little pleasure this has become for me. There's something completely mesmerising and hypnotically peaceful, about virtual agriculture and animal husbandry. I find myself completely enraptured by the inner workings of my virtual farm, and take the responsibility of keeping my farm beautiful (and profitable) very seriously indeed. It's a gorgeous place I have created. A little cottage in the corner with flowers in the garden, surrounded by a hedgerow and all manner of fruit trees. Walking down a path and out the front gate, there are fields of potatoes, pineapples, coffee beans, carrots, a little pond with ducks and turtles, and whatever else takes my fancy that day. The animals are healthy and happy in their paddocks with hay and water troughs, and even trees to shelter under when the heat of the Farmville sun gets to hot.

In Farmville, the sun always shines, the animals make contented noises, and Mother Nature is generous with her bountiful gifts. My husband has also got in on the game now, and I think he also finds similar attractions in being able to retreat to the fantasy farm-life we have created, and spends time in the evening perfecting our own little slice of paradise. We want to live on our farm.

I know some people think Facebook and games like Farmville are a waste of time, but when you're living with cancer, the real world can be a lonely old bitch and sometimes it's nice to have a place to retreat to that doesn't involve wheat grass enemas, inner chakras and motley old hippy yogamasters.

Cancer Catchphrases

Here we are in November already, and somehow I managed to let another month slip by without managing to post nary a 1-line zinger or another rant and rave at Breast Cancer, Inc, or even another "Woe-is-me" type story. No excuses really - just finding it continually hard to collect my thoughts in a rational and logical manner, and more importantly in a form that is appropriate for a public forum such as this. Plus I like to inject a little comedic spirit into my writing, and sometimes, dammit, my funny just ain't there !

Anyway here I am now, so time to have a rant about something that's been on my mind lately. In the World of Breast Cancer (and maybe other types as well) you hear a lot of what I like to call "Cancer Catchphrases". I really need to take some kind of unscientific survey on how many times in a month I might hear some of my personal favorites.

DISCLAIMER: Now folks, I know people mean well when they utter these phrases, but when you've travelled the same road that I have for this length of time, you start to get a bit cynical. So apologies in advance if anyone is offended by my poking fun but if you'd been there you'd get it.

1. "My thoughts and prayers are with you"....Well what else does one say ? Hi ? Want to go out for lunch ? Got some really good gossip for you ? Yada, yada, yada.

2. "God only gives us what we can handle"....Thanks, but I would have preferred to handle a mansion on the beach, $10 million dollars in the bank and a completely carefree existence !

3. "Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you".....Sure. Do you think you could come over and clean my gutters, clip my dog's toenails, unblock the septic tank, and then cook me dinner ? How's Sunday for you ?

4. "Cancer can now be thought of like any other chronic disease".....Errrr okay, and it's raining Pink Elephants outside my window. See my earlier post for how I really feel about this one.

5. "Keep a positive attitude".....Mmmmm this is a tough one to mock but let me give it my best shot. It's a good thing, regardless of whether you have cancer, to maintain a sunny disposition, positive attitude and general zest for life. But unfortunately these things can't cure cancer. It's a physiological affliction and cancer doesn't care if you have a smile on your dial 365-days a year for 24 hours a day. If it did, you can be sure I'd be so juiced up on happy pills that the sun would shine from my proverbial you-know-what. I would be on Oprah talking about my best-selling book, "Stick it where the Sun Does Shine". People would pay millions to come and listen to me speak. Hell I would have my own talk-show, magazine and multi-billion dollar empire. Oprah would be calling me for advice. Okay enough of the fantasies. Of course I try to be positive. But sometimes it's hard. It's okay to have a blue day. It's not going to cause the cancer cells to multiply. It's perfectly normal.

6. "Cancer doesn't define you".......Okay. This one is my favorites for this month. I've been doing the rounds of various doctors and therapists and spending a lot of time gabbing about the stupid cancer. I hear this one ALL the time and I used to agree with it, but now I'm not so sure.

What does this really mean ?

Let's just take a routine day in my life right now. I get up and change the sheets due to the night sweats that I had the night before. I go and eat breakfast. Exactly 30-minutes after eating I take my chemo pills for the day. I wait around for at least another 30-minutes after that staying close to the bathroom in case of urgency's which can sometimes be a side-effect of the chemo. I take a shower, get out and look at my scars, and then put an SPF moisturizer on my skin because it cannot be exposed to sun for any length of time due to the chemo. I put another moisturizer on my hands and feet to try and keep "hand and foot syndrome" at bay, another chemo side effect. I blow dry my hair and wonder if all the hair that is falling out, is normal or whether it's the chemo again. I go to Pilate's to keep my surgically altered shoulder and back muscles limber, and keep my general fitness level up. I come home and have a lie down due to feeling a little nauseous and fatigued. I go through the mail and reconcile all the medical bills with the insurance claims. I pay the medical bills that the stupid insurance didn't cover. I ponder the pain in my right side and wonder if it's anything to be concerned about. I call my Doctor to schedule the next chemo appointment. I think about organizing a vacation around the next set of body scans and how to fit the chemo in. I sit down and eat dinner. Exactly 30-minutes after eating I take more chemo pills. I go and watch TV and zone out. I go to bed and take a sleeping tablet so I can sleep uninterrupted. I get up the next day and do it all over again.

Now I might be oversimplifying things a bit, and I've certainly left out the little things that can make a day great, but the fact is, a lot of my everyday life now is consumed with dealing with the stupid cancer. Cancer seems to be my job and I'm certainly a career girl. If I could resign from the job I would as it's certainly not the life I envisioned for myself. Is cancer who I am ? No I don't think so, but it sure does suck the life out of you and it's a struggle every day to remember who you were before the stupid cancer barged uninvited into your life.

Pink Fall

Well first of all, I can't believe it's been over a month since my last post. The reality is I think I just decided to take the rest of the summer off from this cancer crap, even though I still had a lot to say, I just couldn't really be bothered. Instead I travelled the world, spent inordinate amounts of time with a small needy dog, cultivated a vegetable garden, did a lot of nothing with my darling husband for three glorious weeks and generally did a great job of avoiding the dirty great pink elephant in the room.

But now summer's over. And what better reminder, then the rapidly approaching month of October. It used to be a month of pumpkin pie, falling leaves, glorious rich colors, Halloween, and all good things in bright, warm, earthy tones. But that's all so last century. Now, in the U.S. at least, October has been designated Breast Cancer Awareness Month. All of a sudden it seems everything around me is transformed into myriad ghastly shades of pink. Everywhere I turn, I see the ubiquitous pink ribbons and people walking, running, cycling, shopping, eating, baking, vacuuming, wiping, cleaning, cheering, dancing, all "for the cure".

At this point, in the interests of the full disclosure, I too used to secretly look forward to October, when I would drape myself in pride with all manner of garish pink, survivor-emblemed merchandise and take my place in the Survivors circle whilst bopping out to "We Are Family" or whatever the cheesy designated anthem was for that year, at one of the many breast cancer fundraising walks.

But I'm not doing it this year or ever again. It's just a load of bollocks and a great excuse for companies to market their products to the well-meaning consumer in the guise of "Breast Cancer Awareness" when all it really boils down to is profiteering at the expense of real people really suffering and really dying from this insidious disease. Of all the money raised via these Pink marketing campaigns, awareness products, and fundraising drives, I'd bet my left tit (if I had one) that the amount of money that actually goes to furthering the efforts to finding a cure, and more importantly the causes of this disease, is half-pennies on the dollar.

It's not enough to believe that "awareness" and early detection saves lives, what matters is "why ?" Unfortunately the answer to this question won't help the big corporates move their pink products or help the drug companies move their cancer drugs so let's all just sit back, don our pink ribbons and do our bit by being "aware" of breast cancer during the month of October and leave it at that. I mean really, if we did find a cure, what would we possibly do with our time during October otherwise ? Gorge on pumpkin pie, frolic in piles of leaves, take brisk walks on beautiful clear afternoons, make a Halloween costume, marvel at the spectacular bright orange, red, brown colors of fall, enjoy the bounties of life ? Ha ! How dull and so last century.

The Adventures of Pink Lady: Part I

I'd like to introduce you all to a good friend of mine -  Pink Lady -  as I have come to know her.  Or perhaps you know her by her full name, A Vision of Hope, part of the "Thomas Kinkade Inspirations of Hope Collection". She is the first figurine in the collection, to soon be followed by a spectre of lavendered loveliness called A Picture of Faith.  Apparently a portion of the sale proceeds of these figurines will be donated by their Creator to help fight breast cancer.  She and her pastelly-shaded friend retail for about $19.95 each.  But wait ! There's more ! This collection is limited to only 95 casting days  and each figurine is numbered.

So where am I going with this ?  There's so much material to work with here, especially for the likes of me, apparently living with my chronic case of cancer and feeling generally jaded and pissed off most of the time !  Ah but I digress: let's just start at the beginning shall we ?

I woke up with glee last Christmas to excitedly open the presents which had been collecting under our beautiful Christmas tree.  A mysterious box had arrived several days before addressed to me, and being a keeper of tradition, I diligently placed the unopened box under said Christmas tree along with various other boxes of all shapes and sizes.  (Work with me here people - I'm 38 years old, living with cancer - I need some childish excitement in my life !).  After tearing open all of my wonderful Christmas bounty, at last the mysterious box was before me and begging to be ripped open with all the energy of a five year old child hopped up on a keg of red creaming soda.  At last I opened the box and all was revealed.  

It was like the heavens opened, the sun shone down, angelic voices echoed in my ears, and there she lay.  In all her bedazzled pink lacy finery.  Such sculptural elegance and a body with a set of breasts so finely crafted,  she made Barbie look like a cheap whore.  My mind raced, my blood pressure increased with the excitement and emotion welled up in me.  Her beauty was unsurpassed, and as the tears rolled down my face, I knew that everything would be okay.  Because here she was in MY house.  A Vision of Hope. Edition #7783U.  Surely sent from heaven above (or maybe just China) to spread her message of love and devotion, and her commitment to a cause so just and noble, exemplified by the hidden pink ribbons in her elegant dress (how many can you find in the photograph ?).

Just by gazing upon her, I suddenly felt at ease and knew that all was not lost.  Even with two mastectomies, a bilateral oopherectomy, a shoulder that doesn't move, a nipple reconstruction, night sweats, hot flashes, chemo-damaged organs, radiation scarred tissue and a spirit sorely tested (but not broken), I realized at that moment that there dwelled inside me, nay all those touched by breast cancer, a Pink Lady who is ready to stand up and be counted and fight the war on cancer, all whilst dressed to the nines in an ankle-length pink frock.  And all this hope for the bargain price of $19.95.

Thank you Pink Lady #7783U.  I can't do it without you.  You inspire me to greatness.  As does the $0.000000001c (or thereabouts) that has been donated on my behalf for the simple act of purchasing you.

Further Reading:

• Breast Cancer Action Project: Think Before You Pink
  

Yeah Right !

So I have spent the best part of the last month abroad relaxing with family and friends and feeling really good and pretty darn normal. As always though it's nice to get home and sleep in your own bed and be surrounded by what you know.

Trouble is now, I seem to finding myself feeling a bit down. I think I am just starting to process the enormity of this last piece of crappy news which I guess is only natural but makes me want to just hibernate for a bit and not really talk to or see anybody. I have decided the best way to describe what I'm feeling is "emotional constipation". Having trouble articulating how I really feel about the whole situation and basically showing any emotion over it whatsoever. Some people call that being very brave. I just call it a bit of good old fashioned denial. I'll come to grips with it sooner or later, but not just willing at this point to waste a perfectly good summer on tears and fears. I think I'll take the metaphoric laxative after Labor Day.

So what better way to deal than to have a bit a of rant and rave on the old blog !

Recently I read an article in the New York Times by Gina Kolata entitled Grant System Leads Cancer Researchers to Play it Safe. The basic gist of the article is that cancer researches in the U.S. are increasingly only able to access grant money if their studies are judged by the grantor's to have a reasonable probability of success which, the article asserts, is stifling the chances of more radical and innovative research studies to the detriment of making any real progress on the war on cancer.

To be honest I'm not surprised at the findings of this article. If there is any chance of finding a cure for cancer, I don't believe it will come from a country where health care is basically a for-profit business run by corporate Gargantua's. What economic incentive could there possibly be in finding a cure for a disease that generates billions and billions of dollars in profits particularly for the U.S. health care industry. Can you imagine a world without cancer ? I wish I could but don't think it will happen in my lifetime. An entire subset of the health care machine just goes away ? Yeah right ! Poop to that: physically and emotionally.